Classic Poem

OR, MATHURIN BRUNEAU .

Le Prince de Navarre

What! thou, poor Mathurin, would'st reign
O'er France? why, what has turned thy brain?
Change not thy indigence, I pray,
For all the gold that kings display:
Set square upon his throne, Ennui
Fools bending low is proud to see
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!

Thou hast not gathered the good fruit
That to misfortune we impute:
Of crowns thou never would'st have thought
If by adversity well taught;
Though this ambitious turn of mind
To heroes is not quite confined.
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes.

How oft, up there, where thou would'st be,
Cajoled by fools on bended knee,
Kings call themselves the sires of those
Who're orphans—every body knows!
Reigning! 'tis but to shower around
Laws, ribbons, phrases of high sound.
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!

Think'st thou as warrior to be great?
Know that 'tis oft the Conqueror's fate,
To find the laurels of the day
By some rude General snatched away:
An English Chief, by Tartar's aid,
Low in the dust proud standards laid
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!

What agents illegitimate
Upon legitimacy wait!
Too late thy goodness would be told
How badly Nismes was served of old:
The Pont-Neuf monarch, raised again,
Pleads for the Huguenots in vain!
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!

What end to ills could'st thou devise,
If some unscrupulous Allies
Should swear thou did'st but lease the throne,
By thee declared of right thine own?
Their grasping League, from day to day,
Dear, and more dear, would make thee pay.
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!

Lastly, could'st thou, without a qualm,
Greasing the Holy Spirit's palm,
By treaty, ludicrous terms accord
Thy Reverend Father in the Lord?
And, for re-gilding old tiaras,
Of heavier taxes make us bearers?
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!

Besides, just now we need thy trade;
Sad tricks with us our friends have played:
'Tis now for foreigners our lot—
Not for ourselves—to boil the pot
Our cloaks so useful, too, they find,
That they'll not leave our shoes behind:
Prince of Navarre, adopt my views;
Make us, O Prince, good wooden shoes!